


chaotic (my heart is off time)

by shirosayas (landfill)



Category: NU'EST, Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, Developing Friendships, Emotional Constipation, Light Angst, M/M, Quick Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2019-08-13 23:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16482107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/landfill/pseuds/shirosayas
Summary: in which three demigods navigate through their relationship with themselves and each other. the sword-fighting and monster-slaying is just a(n unfortunate) bonus along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucitae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/gifts).



> ao3 user lucitae, jan 4th 2018:  
> "shove dongho in the onghwang equation why don't we"  
> "look the best way to balance the struggle of onghwang and baekmin is to just throw them all together"  
> \+ every convo that followed after involving the dynamics of ongdong
> 
> you planted the seeds in my head and now i'm letting you, and the world, reap it. enjoy C:

♀

  
  
 

“Dude, wake up! Did you hear about the new kid yet?”

 

Dongho grunts loudly, flipping over to bury his face into his pillow. But it’s a futile effort to ignore his persistent friend, who latches onto his shoulder, trying to shake him awake.

 

“Dongho seriously. The new kid. He’s big news!”

 

“Leave me alone Seongwoo!” Dongho hisses, annoyed.

 

“C’mon,” Seongwoo insists, climbing onto Dongho’s bunk and invading his personal space as always. “We gotta get ready for the flag games anyways. Get up!”

 

Dongho grumbles, keeping his eyes shut even though he knows he’s far too awake now to go back to sleep. Goddamnit.

 

“Why can’t you just let me be like everyone else?”

 

Seongwoo laughs. “Because you’d be sad if I do.” Dongho huffs, ready to protest, but Seongwoo is already lifting himself off the bed, flashing a bright grin at Dongho’s glowering face. “Don't be like that, hm? I already saved a big breakfast for you so let's go!”

 

Dongho sighs. There really is no winning against Apollo kids and their boundless enthusiasm during the day.

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

“Wait. Come again? Did you just say that he’s—”

 

“—A big three kid? Yeah,” Seongwoo affirms, nodding. “Apparently some of the campers overheard Jisung hyung talking about it with the advisors in the director’s cabin. And well, you know how quickly gossip travels around here.”

 

Dongho immediately narrows his eyes. Only a handful of idiots are ballsy enough to tail Jisung, let alone eavesdrop on the director’s cabin. Amongst those aforementioned few includes, of course, Seongwoo himself.

 

“What’s with that look?” Seongwoo pouts, already getting defensive. “It wasn’t _just_ me.”

 

Dongho stares at Seongwoo blankly, wondering how his friend has been functioning on just two brain cells for the past sixteen years of his life. “If you’re going to cause trouble, at least don’t admit to it so easily.”

 

“What’s the harm? You won’t snitch on me,” Seongwoo shrugs, not at all bothered. “Besides, I gotta spice up our lives once in a while. It’s too quiet here.”

 

“What’s wrong with quiet?” Dongho protests, frowning. “I like quiet.”

 

“Relax tiger, I wasn’t attacking your lazy lifestyle,” Seongwoo says, grinning. “I was _just_ saying, you know, in general.”

 

Dongho scoffs. “Just watch, idiot. One of these days, trouble will be the one looking for you.”

 

“Maybe. But...” Seongwoo pauses, still spotting a grin on his face, the kind that exudes a concerning amount confidence in what he’s about to say, “you’ll be there to help me won’t you?”

 

Dongho snickers in response, shaking his head at his friend’s shamelessness, but doesn’t bother to refute the statement. Maybe this is why Seongwoo has so much spunk, because they both know that no matter what trouble he ends up running himself into, Dongho will always be right behind him.

 

And maybe, Dongho also likes being the source of that confidence.  

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

“Hey, hey! Look, there’s the signal!”

 

“What?!” Sungwoon spins around in shock. “How did they breach through our ranks so quickly?”

 

“THEY’RE COMING FOR THE FLAG!” Hweseung’s voice then comes shouting through the air. They quickly spot him in the distance, running back to base.

 

Upon Hweseung's approach, it’s easy to surmise how badly the situation currently is at their frontlines. His helmet is missing, hair ruffled wild from the wind, armour surrounded in scratches and tiny dents. He looks like he barely made it unscathed.

 

“We got… ambushed… from behind,” Hweseung tries to explain whilst hyperventilating. “They’re using… the central forest path now.”

 

“ _Jihoon_ ,” Sungwoon says the name like it’s his bane. “I should’ve known he wouldn’t play it safe. _Zeus_ , this is why I hate Athena kids.” The demigod exhales tiredly, pinching his nose as he tries to recollect his thoughts, evidently stressed. “Okay, Hweseung. You and Woodam take the rest of the left flank as reinforcements. I want those choke points secured _before_ those Demeter kids leave the forest.”

 

“Um. Sure,” Hweseung nods, locking eyes with Woodam in understanding as they leave the base together.

 

Dongho watches as Sungwoon paces back and forth, mumbling expletives about contingencies, _“that little shit”_  and _“his usual routine of screwing with me”_. In Sungwoon’s defence, Jihoon screws with anyone and everyone that’s unfortunate enough to be on the coalition opposing him, and it just so happens that today is Sungwoon’s draw.

 

Which also meant that he would've already anticipated how Sungwoon would respond to his provocation.

 

“This could be a distraction,” Dongho deduces. “I think they’re trying to thin our defences at the border. Bait or no bait, they’ll surely send someone or two along the west stream.”

 

“I can’t say that you’re wrong,” Sungwoon acknowledges the possibility with a frown. “But it’s not like I can afford to spare anyone right now. Worst case scenario, our defences there should be able to at least slow down whoever they send that way.”

 

Dongho knits his brows, concerned. Sungwoon has a point, for sure. But, on the off chance that his theory is correct, he also highly suspect the ones being dispatched there will make short work of their guards. Jihoon isn't the type to play it safe like Sungwoon.  

 

And… more importantly.

 

“Seongwoo is stationed there…” Dongho mutters to himself. “Sorry Sungwoon hyung. I think I’ll have to go check it for myself.”

 

“What—” but he’s off before Sungwoon can protest, “—wait! Dongho! DONGHO!”

 

“Well great,” Sungwoon sighs loudly once Dongho has disappeared into the distance. “How in the Hades could this day get any worse?”

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

Dongho knows what the other campers think of him, especially on the battlefield. They say he’s intimidating, aggressive, _dangerous_. They look at him more often with fear than respect. Like he’s some sort of predator, a _tiger_ ready to claw you to pieces. Dongho wouldn’t say that’s how he sees himself, but maybe there’s some truth in their judgment.

 

Maybe he does live up to his title, to some degree.

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

From where Dongho stands, metres apart from their defence line, he can see an Ares kid he doesn’t know passed out behind a tree, and another, unfamiliar face, standing over a familiar, unconscious body.

 

Dongho freezes. He doesn’t have to blink twice to recognise that it’s his friend. His only friend. Lying over the bedrocks, unmoving.

 

_“You’ll be there to help me won’t you?”_

 

Dongho’s nails are digging painfully into his palm before he even realises it.

 

“Oh, hi,” the boy from the opposing team greets him. As if he just noticed the thickening tension, he looks down at Seongwoo’s body and then back up to meet the murderous gaze in Dongho’s eyes, and gulped. “Um… this isn’t what it looks like, I promise.”

 

Dongho charges towards him without a word.

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

“Woah!” the boy says while deftly dodging his attacks, barely unsheathing his blade in time to parry Dongho’s next strike. “You’re not trying to kill me right?”

 

To react so swiftly and calmly under the heat of a surprise attack is no small feat, Dongho notes. This guy is as skilful as he feared, but, that doesn’t matter. Dongho has no intention of coming out as the loser of this duel.

 

The other demigod cocks his head to the side, a little perplexed. “Your silence to my question is kind of worrying me.”

 

Dongho doesn’t know why, but the fact that this fresh face newbie can still remain so composed, despite the situation, is getting on his nerves a little. His irritation only grows every time they trade blows, further incited by the boy’s cat-like smile that seems permanently plastered onto his face.

 

That said, once they've matched rhythm long enough, Dongho had begun to predict some patterns in the boy's movement. It's not apparent at first, but the newbie is a textbook fighter. His moves are logical; never spontaneous. All the more easier for Dongho to exploit. So this time, instead of delivering another forward thrust, Dongho spins on his feet reflexively and immediately swings his arm down with enough force to separate the other demigod’s sword from its owner’s grip.

 

“Ow!” the boy yelps, but remains light on his feet as he quickly skips backward, staying away to avoid further confrontation with Dongho, for now.

 

“You must be that ‘tiger’ guy, right?” He asks, laughing nervously. “Everyone was right. You’re pretty strong.”

 

Dongho narrows his eyes at that. Because from the sound of it: “So _you’re_ the new kid. That big three child?”

 

“Is that what they’re calling me around camp?” the boy asks, tilting his head again. “I also have a name, if that’s easier.”

 

Dongho can’t help but rolls his eyes, because it suddenly makes so much sense. The Big Three’s children with their innate combat instincts and natural air of regal confidence. Not that Dongho has anything against them, but this particular kid seems especially annoying already without the latter to add to it.

 

“Minhyun,” he suddenly announces, even though Dongho didn’t even prompt him. “Hwang Minhyun. That’s my name. I’m the son of—”

 

“I don’t care,” Dongho cuts him off, drawing his blade at the boy again. “Now are you going to pick up your sword and continue fighting or are you going to retreat?”

 

“Ah, well when you put it like that,” Minhyun smiles again, with that same cat-like smirk that unsettles Dongho, like he still got something hiding under his sleeve. “I yield, of course. At this point, I’ve done my job of distracting you long enough I’d say.”

 

“What?” Dongho scowls, at the same time that a horn blows, signalling a retreat from his team, and that’s when it dawned on him.

 

_The distraction was aimed at me._

 

Dongho curses, looking at Seongwoo regretfully before turning on his heels. He needs to return to their base, _now_.

 

The ground underneath his feet suddenly shakes with force, causing him to trip. Luckily, Dongho managed to steer himself in time, falling onto his hands and knees instead. When he looks back to see what’s going on, Minhyun is also kneeling on the ground, eyes shut tight in concentration as his palms are glued to the floor.

 

“An earthquake,” Dongho observes, shocked. “So… _Poseidon_ is your father.”

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

As startling as his ability was, the most Minhyun could do was throw Dongho off his tracks a little. It’s also not hard to notice the strain and effort it’s causing him, so Dongho managed to snap his string of focus with ease… by throwing a small rock at his head (surprisingly a big, easy target).

 

Dongho watches as Minhyun winces in pain, clutching onto his head as he falls forward. It wasn’t a throw hard enough to break his skin but definitely hard enough to bruise. He quickly runs forward, circling the boy who raises his head to try and find Dongho, only to be pulled into a chokehold from behind by him. 

 

“Stop! Time out!” Minhyun pleads. “I can’t… _breathe_ …”

 

Dongho almost scoffs. He’s not even using that much pressure and yet Minhyun is repeatedly hitting his arm, palm smacking desperately against his wet skin like he's being strangled alive. This kid is almost as dramatic as Seongwoo.

 

Wait. Wet? Why is his arm wet?

 

Dongho looks down, blinking in confusion, slowly comprehending the situation. “Are you… crying?”

 

At that, he hears a choked sob and immediately lets Minhyun go. Dongho watches apologetically as the scrawny kid falls onto his knees, wheezing for air. Maybe he was being a little bit rougher than he thought.

 

“Oh, Styx. Sorry… I didn’t mean to—”

 

Dongho’s vision suddenly spins, breath punched out of his lungs as his back meets the ground with a solid thud.

 

“Oof,” Dongho groans. He lies there for a while, a little disoriented from the pain throbbing at the back of his head and the side of his ankles from where he was kicked. He would’ve surely passed out if not for the helmet protecting his skull.

 

“There,” the other boy coughs weakly, still rubbing his own throat as he rises onto his feet, “now we’re even.”

 

Dongho laughs as he slowly lifts himself up, watching Minhyun closely before they both glance over to find their respective swords at the same time, lying on the ground somewhere. The weapons aren’t far from their positions, Dongho notes whilst Minhyun is no doubt making the same observation.

 

When he meets Minhyun’s eyes again, the boy doesn’t move, but the corner of his mouth quirks up knowingly, as if he already knew what was on Dongho’s mind.

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

“Hey. I was wondering something...” Minhyun trails. Dongho thinks he looks like a dork like this, with a bandaid unevenly plastered over the straight bridge of his nose, the edges of his curved lips wet with soup, soft eyes blinking curiously like an infant. It’s hard to believe this demure kid almost stood toe to toe with him just a few hours ago.

 

Dongho brings his cup to his lips and nods. “Shoot.”

 

“Why do the campers around here call you a ‘tiger’?”

 

“That’s pretty self-explanatory,” Dongho says, shrugging. He’d expected this inquiry sooner or later. “But well, to cut a long story short: I’m scary to a lot of them, I guess. So they call me a tiger, a beast, amongst other things.”

 

Minhyun’s head tilts to the side again; a habit, it seems. At this point, Dongho questions if he’s really not secretly a bobble-head brought to life. “But that’s just a title, no?” he asks.

 

Dongho sets down his cup on the table and just laughs. The sound is empty, devoid of real humour.

 

“Do you see anyone else sitting here beside you right now?”

 

It only takes a quick turn of Minhyun’s head for him to notice all the sneaky eyes in the dining hall quietly watching, whispering, and then turning away once they’re caught. As if slowly realising the reality behind Dongho’s reputation, he finally stays quiet and focuses on eating his food.

 

Dongho doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t expect anything more either. Minhyun’s played the role of a good sport long enough, keeping Dongho company while Seongwoo is resting back at his cabin. There’s definitely a line of kids that’s eager to chat up with Minhyun and be his friend if Dongho wasn’t in the way. Dongho isn't doing much to keep him entertained either, and Minhyun seems like the sociable type. It’s okay though, they know they’ll have their chance tomorrow when Minhyun leaves—  

 

“Well, what do you think?” Minhyun suddenly asks.

 

“Hm?” Dongho raises a brow. “Think about what?”

 

Minhyun doesn’t blink even once. “Do you agree with them? That you’re a scary beast?”

 

Dongho gulps. It’s unnerving; not the question, but the way Minhyun looks at Dongho that is. Unlike the other campers that Dongho has met, he doesn’t shy away from prolonged eye contact, nor does he feel intimidated by Dongho’s gaze. Despite him being left to carry most of their conversation, it’s easy to see that he gauges Dongho’s reactions constantly, staying attentive to every movement and response that Dongho has to offer.

 

Dongho is used to being stared at, being watched, having people’s eyes on him because they’re wary. But this? This is _different_. The way Minhyun looks at him is different. And Dongho isn’t used to that.

 

So he looks away first, eyes casting downward. “Do you?”

 

Minhyun chuckles good-naturedly. “Deflective I see,” he says, and it follows with a gentle shake of his head, “but no, I don’t. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yup.” Minhyun smiles. “You’re strong. Passionate. Stubborn, but in a good way. The kind of tenacity that comes off as aggression but that’s not the case,” he pauses for but a moment, observing Dongho once again before continuing, “I could tell by the way you move when we fought. You didn’t just swing your sword with brute strength; each strike was strategic, sharp while maintaining proper restraint.”

 

Then he laughs aloud; another habit, Dongho notes. “It’s still sloppy at times though, but that’s okay. You’ve probably practised on your own for a long time without someone to guide you right?”

 

Dongho remains silent, unconsciously retracting his calloused hands towards his chest. He suddenly remembered the first time he held a sword and how much he hated it, how uncomfortable it felt in his hands, how scared he was of hurting someone else. Then he remembered why he decided to wield one in the first place, why he steeled himself into bearing pain, why he practised every day until the stars in the sky melted into the sunlight.

 

Here’s the thing: Dongho isn’t one to put himself out in the open so freely. He’s not an outgoing Apollo kid like Seongwoo or a sociable Hermes kid like Sungwoon. He’s very aware that he’s a little hard to get to know, and even harder to get close to. And yet, here is this fellow demigod, this annoying kid, this sixteen-year-old boy he’d never met before today, who sees him clearly through every little crack in his walls.

 

It’s a strange situation, one that Dongho doesn’t know how to hide or run from. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of irritating?”

 

Minhyun laughs, eyes crinkling with the warm sound. “Surprisingly, you’re _not_ the first,” he says. “I suppose not everyone can handle my charms.”

 

“Ha. Ha.” Dongho deadpans. “Well then, Prince Charming, got anything else to criticise while you’re at it?”

 

“Criticise?” Minhyun blinks, looking surprised. “I was trying to compliment you, actually.”

 

Dongho widens his eyes a little, taken aback. “What?”

 

“Compliment,” Minhyun reaffirms with that cheeky cat-smile again. “You know? Things people say when they think you did something cool?”

 

“I _know_ what compliments are!” Dongho snaps. “It’s just…” his brows knit together, confused, “you think I’m cool?”

 

“Yeah, I do,” Minhyun admits, smile softening like he’s trying to show that his words are genuine. It’s quickly betrayed when his lips pull into a smirk. “I also think you could use a sparring partner.”

 

Dongho stares at Minhyun, contemplating at first. Then he fails to hide the hint of amusement in his growing smile. “Is that so?” he asks playfully. “Hm. I don’t know though. I’m not so sure if I can trust the guy that couldn’t properly take a single hit from my sword.”

 

“Ouch,” Minhyun winces, leaning back into his seat. “And here I thought I’ve already swept you off your feet,” he says, adding a wink for extra measure.

 

Dongho finally breaks into a laugh at that, eyes curving like the crescent glowing in the sky. He can see now that Minhyun definitely shares some similarities with a certain shameless idiot that he knows; which isn’t a bad thing. Putting that aside, Dongho can also admit that he doesn’t dislike Minhyun’s company either.

 

So if Minhyun wants to voluntarily sign up to be Dongho’s training dummy, then well, it’s his funeral.

 

“Meet me at the east border of the camp before sunrise,” Dongho instructs, amusement etched in the corners of his lips. “I hope you’re not a morning person, Fish Stick.”

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

“It doesn’t suit you,” Minhyun says, breaking the silence, and before Dongho can ask what he meant, he sneakily dives forward and strikes cleanly against Dongho’s shield, causing Dongho to stagger back a few steps. What a little shit.

 

Minhyun hums at that, satisfied. “It was just bothering me… your nickname that is,” he clarifies. “You don’t like it either, right?”

 

Dongho shrugs as he slowly shifts back into another offensive stance, getting ready for his next move. “Well, I didn’t ask to be called that voluntarily.”

 

“I know, it’s just—” Minhyun pauses, quickly raising his shield to defend against a swift blow from Dongho’s one, “—don’t you think it’s funny? A tiger isn’t even one of Ares’ sacred animals.”

 

Dongho narrows his eyes at that, grip tightening firmly around his sword. “What does Ares got to do with this?”

 

“Oh? I thought I heard…” Minhyun trails off, as if slowly realising that he’d just stepped on a landmine. “Are you not—”

 

“ _No_ ,” Dongho answers him at once, bringing down his blade with a dangerously-close slice that could've splits Minhyun in half. “I don’t know who you’ve been talking to and what you’ve been told, but I haven't even been  _claimed_ , Fish Stick.”

 

Minhyun’s mouth drops open a little, surprised at the revelation while deftly dodging Dongho’s moves. “So you don’t know who your godly parent is?”

 

“I don’t know who _both_ of my parents are,” Dongho says, a little quieter this time. He doesn’t… enjoy the topic of his heritage, nor the possibilities of it. It’s one thing to not be acknowledged by your own parent — there’s plenty of kids at the camp who haven’t been claimed yet like him — but it’s another thing to have others forward their assumptions of your parentage sorely based on what they _think_ they know about you.

 

“Then technically, there’s still a chance that Ares might be your father, you know?” Minhyun says, raising a valid point perhaps, but the statement still annoys Dongho nevertheless. It’s plenty obvious why many of the campers assume Dongho is a son of Ares; he doesn’t need to hear it now, especially not from Minhyun as well.

 

“I already said—”

 

“I know, I know. But look, you don’t have to feel lesser just because you don’t know who your parents were,” Minhyun continues, once again saying something that Dongho hadn’t expected. “I mean, sure, they make up a part of who you are, but you’re still your own person at the end of the day.”

 

“Wow,” Dongho breaks into a small chuckle, shaking his head, “everything you say is so… corny.”

 

Minhyun pouts at that, and Dongho has to hide a smile. The disparity between Minhyun’s baby face and childish expressions with the insightful things he has to say is truly amusing at this point.

 

“You have a strange way of thanking people you know that?”

 

“Get over yourself,” Dongho scoffs. “You should be thanking _me_ for going easy on your skinny limbs, Fish Stick.”

 

Minhyun’s lips deepen into a frown, like he couldn’t believe that was true. “This was you going _easy_?”

 

Dongho only responds with a grin.

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

“By the _gods_ ,” Minhyun exhales tiredly, slumped on the ground. “Maybe you really are Ares’ son.”

 

Dongho laughs, eyes crinkling as he rests his sword on one of his shoulders. “Maybe you just have pitiful stamina on land because you’re a sad Poseidon’s son,” he teases, but still outstretches a hand towards Minhyun, who looks like he’s about to collapse onto the floor.

 

Minhyun, meanwhile, chuckles softly when he sees Dongho’s hand hovering in front of him and gladly takes it. Dongho pulls him up onto his feet with all of his remaining strength, leaving them to stand face-to-face, almost toe to toe.

 

Up close and personal like this, Dongho can finally meet Minhyun’s eyes clearly. At the moment they’re calm, Dongho can almost envision the gentle waves crashing over the surface with every soft blink; they’re also dark, and strangely grows even more so the longer Dongho stares at them, like he’s already sinking into the depths of the ocean before he’d even realised.

 

There’s a little voice in Dongho’s head telling him to shy away from those eyes. Dongho doesn’t understand why, but he knows he doesn’t want to. Maybe it’s because Minhyun is smiling at him, his expression as warm and gentle as the palm enveloped around Dongho’s hand.

 

A strange sensation surges in Dongho’s chest then, right at that moment. It was fleeting, lasting barely longer than a second, gone before he could fully grasp it in entirety. But it’s enough to break him out of his trance, flustered as he quickly retracts his hand away from Minhyun’s.

 

Minhyun’s eyes seem to flash with concern at the sudden change in attitude. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Dongho quietly nods, he’d never been more thankful for the darkened sky hiding his flushed ears. “I’m good.”

 

Maybe he should run before the sun rises.

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

“Who—” Seongwoo chokes halfway through his breakfast, looking at Dongho, “Wha—” then back at Minhyun, “Why—”

 

“Oh, hey… I remember you,” Minhyun smiles at him. “I see you’re feeling better. Sorry about your head, I didn’t think you’d fall that hard.” His eyes pass over to Dongho, a glint of mischief hiding behind them as he chuckles. “I almost got murdered for it too.”

 

Seongwoo slowly points at himself, “I’m—” then at Dongho, “You—” then back at Minhyun, “He—”

 

Dongho watches as Seongwoo sputters comically, probably still in disbelief that someone like Minhyun not only knew the both of them, but also chose to sit down at their table. Dongho would be surprised himself if he hasn’t already learnt that Minhyun’s quite the odd one himself.  

 

“Um. Is he okay?” Minhyun whispers to Dongho behind his hand, eyeing Seongwoo in concern.

 

“He’s fine,” Dongho assures, almost wanting to bury his face into his palm as he glances at Seongwoo, still frozen like a frame from a comic book. “Sit down, you weirdo!”

 

“Okay.” Seongwoo comes back to life, quickly sitting back down on his seat, eyes locked in Minhyun’s direction. “Sorry, it’s just. You’re _him_. I mean—” Seongwoo clears his throat, smoothly sweeping a hand over his hair before leaning closer towards Minhyun with a lopsided smirk, a glimpse of his teeth flashing charmingly.

 

“ _Hey_.”

 

“Hi,” Minhyun greets back, clearly holding back the urge to laugh as his eyes crinkle with amusement, propping his chin on his palm. “I don’t think I got your name yet.”

 

The alarm bells in Dongho’s head are ringing. Because the fact that Minhyun already finds Seongwoo entertaining means that they come from the same dumb brand of humour. Dongho doesn’t need the gift of prophecy to surmise how that level of annoying would be too powerful in the future.

 

“Right,” Dongho coughs, cutting in. “So Minhyun, this is Seongwoo. And Seongwoo, this is Minhyun. Cool, now you’ve officially met.”

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

If they’re truly counting, then Dongho has known Seongwoo only a little longer than Minhyun. And they weren’t even friends when they first met.

 

His memories begin during the summer of the previous year. Unlike Dongho, Seongwoo was a different kind of outcast. In fact, many found him tolerable, especially when he’s dishing out sarcastic commentaries to poke fun at another asshole camper or pulling stupid stunts in front of their instructors just for the laughs.

 

Seongwoo was a textbook class clown. You either loved him or hated him, simple as that.

 

Back then, Dongho didn’t know him enough to pick a fence. They never had a reason to talk outside of classes and training. But if he’s comparing his first impression of Seongwoo then and his impression of Seongwoo now, then well, nothing much has changed.

 

That is, Seongwoo is _annoying_. Other than the strings of girls he flirts with on a daily basis, most of the campers have had the urge to punch him in the face at one point. Dongho doesn’t condone it, but he also can’t blame them. Seongwoo just has a habit of playing with fire. For some reason, he enjoys poking for a reaction from people, through all kind of means, especially against the Ares kids who are twice his size. Either way, kids are dumb, and mean, and sometimes they lack self-control and goes too far.

 

Long story short: one day, Seongwoo almost flew too close to the sun and got burnt. Luckily for him, Dongho wasn’t the type to stay a bystander in an unfair fight.

 

The story ends with four battered kids and Seongwoo slumped on the ground next to Dongho, throwing his head back with a victorious laugh as Dongho quietly wipes blood from the corner of his bruised lips. Soon after, they’re shackled with a month’s worth of pegasi stables duties together — a strange ingredient to complete any long-standing friendship.

 

So yes, Dongho can begrudgingly admit that Seongwoo is his longest, closest, and _only_ friend. Or at least that was before Minhyun entered the picture. What’s worse is that just as Dongho had predicted earlier, they’re absolutely insufferable together.

 

Maybe it’s because all three of them are the same age, so there are no hierarchical boundaries inhibiting their self-control around each other. To be clear, Dongho isn’t claiming to be the mature one of the three. But for a pair of sixteen-year-olds, his friends act like they’re _just_ starting puberty.

 

It goes like this: Seongwoo and his lame jokes thrive off all the wide-eyed reactions and boisterous laughter that Minhyun supplies. In turn, Minhyun and his dumb ideas receive all the physical and moral support that they need from an instigator like Seongwoo.

 

Ideas like: “You need a new nickname.”

 

Dongho blinks passively. Sometimes he really can’t understand half of the things that goes on inside Minhyun’s big head. “And what brought this about?”

 

“Nothing,” Minhyun smiles easily. “I just wanted to call you something different.”

 

Dongho scoffs. “Then go adopt a pet. I’m not your plaything—”

 

“How about…” Minhyun hums decidedly, like he didn’t hear Dongho at all. This is one of those times where Dongho remembers that there are some battles where he just can’t win against Minhyun. Especially when he’s clearly dead set on doing this.

  
  
“Baekho?”

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

Ultimately, a dynamic of three is fundamentally different from two. Dongho comes to term with this as he learns to get used to the new changes in his daily routine.

 

His mornings still begins with the same chirpy voice as always, rousing him awake. What’s new is how it continues with endless chatter by his side throughout the day; in between bowls of food, flying spears, and the occasional crashing chariots. Peace only graces him right before he returns to slumber.

 

Sometimes though — just before the cycle repeats — he finds himself staring at the clouded moon in the sky, lying amongst the grass, enjoying the summer evening breeze. Right beside him is the boy with the ocean in his eyes, who makes countless remarks of the stars, retrieving tales and stories from the library of his mind.

 

Dongho has never cared much for stars. But when he closes his eyes and listens to Minhyun’s voice, lulling him in like a gentle current, he can imagine himself floating in the middle of the open sea, watching those constellations come to life across the sky.

 

It’s nice.

 

He loses track of time quite easily though, and when he remembers to open his eyes, he finds a watchful gaze attached to the softest semblance of a smile.

 

“Are you falling asleep?” Minhyun asks. “You’ve been like that for awhile.”

 

The laughter that follows has Dongho’s cheeks immediately surging with heat. There’s no hint of actual mockery from his friend but he feels embarrassed anyways. He doesn’t know why he’s so flustered these days, especially around Minhyun. Maybe it’s because he isn’t used to being caught off-guard, and in such a compromising state no less.

 

 _Or_ , maybe it’s because the notion that Minhyun was watching him the entire time makes him feel… strange. A little nauseous, even. Dongho chalks it up to irritation because that’s what he’s familiar with when it comes to Minhyun.

 

“Shut up. I’m still wide awake,” Dongho says, sounding more annoyed than he really is. Minhyun seems to be used to this by now. Because he’s still beaming at Dongho, eyes disappearing behind cheeky crescents. “What’s with that look? I said I wasn’t sleeping!”

 

“Okay. If you say so.”

 

“I _am_ saying so.”

 

“And I believe you,” Minhyun says, slowly pushing himself up with a grin growing on his face, “after all, Seongwoo said you snore like a _bear_.”

 

Dongho scowls, and immediately reaches out to swipe at Minhyun, but he misses when Minhyun jumps away to dodge him.

 

“Hey!”

 

“I was kidding!” Minhyun laughter rings through the night air as he starts walking backwards, heading towards the cabins, and Dongho can hear the sound echoing in his head for days to come. That irritating feeling resurfaces again, simmering in his stomach and swirling in his chest. He can’t decide whether he hates it or not.

 

Minhyun doesn’t give him time to think about it either, hollering from a distance at Dongho. “Let’s get back hmm? The nights _are_ for sleeping, you know.”

 

“That’s funny,” Dongho says as he slowly stands on his feet, suddenly stretching his limbs. The impromptu exercise ends with the crack of his knuckles, then he smiles menacingly at Minhyun. “I was thinking of putting you to sleep myself.”

 

Minhyun’s face immediately colours with panic, starting to sprint for his life as Dongho pounces after him.

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

They end up getting caught making too much of a ruckus and got reprimanded with armour polishing duty for the rest of the week. Dongho would feel guilty, but the recounts of him and Minhyun faceplanting into a bush of strawberries together has Seongwoo and Minhyun laughing over it for days.

 

Dongho laughs along with them of course, even if he thinks they’re being stupid. It’s weird but he doesn’t hate it.

 

He’s even starting to like the number three.

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

“Rise and shine sleepy princess!” Dongho hears, followed by his blanket being dragged away from his limp body. Dongho ignores it and curls further into his pillow, pressing his face against the fluffy material out of habit, trying to get away from Seongwoo’s annoying voice.

 

“Wake upppppp,” Seongwoo whines, tugging the other end of the pillow. Dongho grunts disapprovingly, refusing to budge.

 

“Dongho!”

 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to wake a sleeping tiger?” he hears Sangbin, his bunkmate, walking past them. “I’m surprised he hasn’t killed you after all this time.”

 

Even in his half-asleep state of grogginess, Dongho agrees. He doesn’t know why he has so much patience for Seongwoo’s shit either.

 

“He loves me too much to do that,” Seongwoo says, as smug as can be. Now Dongho is really tempted to get up and strangle him as he should’ve long ago. “Anyways, now do you see?” Seongwoo seems to be talking to someone else now, “it’s impossible to wake him up at this time of the day.”

 

Dongho hears a laugh, and his brows scrunches at this new voice. It’s not one that he’s used to hearing in the morning but it sounds like one that he recognises. The bed dips a little and Dongho instinctively squeezes into his pillow tighter to protect it from Seongwoo’s prying hands.

 

“Baekho-yah,” he hears that voice instead, drifting him in so familiarly. He also feels a hand brushing against his cheek, gently patting him awake. “Baekho-yah, can you hear me?”

 

Dongho grumbles quietly, rubbing his heavy eyelids until he can blink himself to consciousness. He’s still clutching onto his pillow possessively as he lifts his face and squints, trying to find the owner of that voice.

 

Once his blurry vision finally focuses on Minhyun’s face properly, Dongho immediately springs up into a sitting position. It elicits a laugh out of Minhyun, and Dongho questions how the real thing could still sound exactly the same as his dreams.  

 

“Wow, he never wakes up that fast when I call him,” Seongwoo scoffs, always a reliable reminder that Dongho has returned to reality. He’s crossing his arms in the corner of Dongho’s vision, visibly sulking. “ _Traitor_.”

 

“What are you both doing here?” Dongho frowns at them.

 

“Minhyunnie was curious about what the Hermes cabin was like,” Seongwoo explains, sitting down on the bed opposite to Dongho’s. “And I realised he’d never went through the woes of waking you up either, but well,” he pouts, “you didn’t even give him a hard time.”

 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Dongho snickers, eyes quickly finding Minhyun, who’s curiously walking around the room now. There’s a grimace on his face, and Dongho knows that look. It’s the one where Minhyun is twitching with the urge to tidy up something that is out of order or could be cleaned.

 

“I wouldn’t touch anything if I were you, your highness.”

 

“But…” Minhyun exhales, looking even more distressed as he glances around the room, “your state of living is just… how can you guys leave your belongings around like this?”

 

Dongho looks over every spot that Minhyun had blankly stared at ( _translation:_ dissected and analysed thoroughly in fifty different ways of organisation) and shrugs. None of his roommates, including Dongho himself, is particularly fussy about keeping their room spotless — much less to Minhyun’s impossible standards — so…

 

“I don’t know,” Dongho replies, blinking passively, “we’re still alive and breathing so it’s not that bad.”

 

Sangbin is still by the doorway, sniggering. “Jaehan calls it ‘an organised mess’.”

 

Their responses only seem to appal Minhyun even further. “ _Nothing_ in your room is organised—”

 

“Minhyun! There you are!”

 

All of the attention in the room is quickly drawn to the entrance where Jonghyun is clutching onto the doorway with one hand and his knee with the other. They’re held in anticipation by his silence, but he’s trying to catch his breath before he attempts to speak again.

 

“Is something wrong?” Seongwoo asks first, beating Dongho to the punch.

 

“The advisors want to see you, _now_.” Jonghyun stares directly at Minhyun. “They say it’s urgent.”

  
  
 

♀

  
  
 

“What’s happening?” Dongho asks for the umpteenth time. He doesn’t know why he’s so fidgety, especially when he knows that they should be careful. But with every passing, silent second, he can feel his blood thrumming through his chest so loudly, and there’s nothing to distract him from it. It’s driving him crazy.

 

“What can you hear?”

 

“Be quiet!” Seongwoo snaps, again, looking even more annoyed than before. “How am I supposed to concentrate if you keep yapping into my ears every five seconds?”

 

“Oh. Sorry,” Dongho apologises sheepishly. He forgot that this isn’t as easy as it looks for Seongwoo either, focusing on individual layers of sound from a room full of people to discern conversations.

 

Seongwoo sighs, temper deflating as quickly as it previously flared. He pats Dongho’s shoulder gently, as if reminding his friend to _be patient, it’ll be fine_.

 

Dongho nods, _okay_ , and keeps watch of Seongwoo closely as the latter turns back to press his ear flat against the wall.

 

“Uh huh,” Seongwoo starts mumbling after a while, nodding along as he continues to pensively chant, “uh huh, uh huh.”

 

Dongho starts hugging his knees, fixing his gaze towards the ground near Seongwoo’s sneakers. Truthfully, he’s squirming with the urge to inquire and appease his rising curiosity again, but he quickly squashes it down so he doesn’t unnecessarily distract Seongwoo.

 

“I think…” Dongho hears the shift in Seongwoo’s voice and immediately whips his head up to look at his friend.

 

“What?”

 

“I think,” Seongwoo repeats, confusion settling over his face as he looks back at Dongho, “Minhyun is being sent on a quest?”


	2. Chapter 2

♆

 

 

 

For as long as Minhyun could remember, he’d loved the ocean.

 

Everything about it was magic to him. The warm sound of lost waves returning to their shorelines, the cool ocean winds delivering the breaths of currents from afar, the peerless depths he’d only imagined in his dreams and yet to seen for himself.

 

His mother says it’s in his blood. Because his father was a fisherman who loved the sea like it was family. So Minhyun asks her to tell him more, (Because talking about the ocean was like getting to know his father) and makes her promise to bring to the beach one day. (So maybe being near the ocean will be like meeting his father as well.)

 

Then he remembered the first time he swam, and how much he loved it.

 

He didn’t need to be told how to move, he didn’t need to be told what to do, he didn’t need to be told where to go. He felt safe in the waves pulling him away, and he felt free in the currents pushing him with encouragement. It was like the ocean already knew him. It was like it had always waited for him.

 

Waited for him to come _home_.

 

He loved it so much, he didn’t realise that his heart was racing faster. He loved it so much, he didn’t notice his lungs suddenly growing heavier, until every breath started burning through his nostrils and his skin felt like it was set on fire.

 

Minhyun woke up the next day to the smell of antiseptics in the air. The first thing he feels is his mother’s hands wrapped around his own and the second is her head resting near his stomach. At first, he felt safe again, and smiled in relief, until he saw the streaks of tears still fresh on her face. And suddenly, he feels something else, something that makes him cry aloud.

 

Because for as long as Minhyun could remember, he’d loved the ocean. But it didn’t love _him_. Not like his mother did. So he swore to never go near it again.

 

 

 

♆

 

 

 

“So, that’s it? All I have to do is be the decoy?” Minhyun repeats, just to reaffirm the instructions one more time.

 

“Yes,” the little strategist nods, soft doe eyes and small stature not dampening his assured voice at all, “they’ll likely let their guards down once they think we’ve taken the bait, and then you can take them out right after.”

 

“Cool,” Minhyun smiles, resisting the urge to pick up the little boy in his arms and coo at his cuteness, partly out of respect and mainly out of his intuition warning him not to. “Thanks, Jihoonnie.”

 

“Oh, and watch out for the tiger,” someone else tells him.

 

“A tiger?” Minhyun blinks when a small group of kids starts snickering to themselves. “We have one of those here?”

 

“Yeah,” one of the kids says, grinning. “If you’re not careful, he might even kill you—”

 

“—I’ll kill you lot myself if you don’t shut your traps.” Another boy glares them down, and turns toward Minhyun. Minki, if he remembers correctly.

 

“Don’t listen to them; we don’t have a tiger. They’re talking about another camper,” Minki explains, “he’ll probably be your biggest threat today.”

 

“Ah, that’s right. Sungwoon hyung is leading the opposition, so there _is_ a chance you might run into that person,” Jihoon murmurs, but the confidence in his voice doesn’t waver. “Don’t worry though, in the case of that event, I’m not expecting you to force a win. Just keep him distracted from the main forces for as long as possible.”

 

Minhyun nods, picking up his sword and twirls it in his hand experimentally, smiling to himself.

 

“Sounds fun.”

 

 

 

♆

 

 

 

They say that there’s a fine line between ego and confidence; Minhyun likes to think he toes that line very carefully. He’s not oblivious to his strengths; he knows precisely what he excels at and where he shines best. At the same time, he’s still fully aware of his shortcomings; he knows when to withdraw from a futile fight and invest his efforts elsewhere.

 

And yet, Minhyun continues to ignore the rational voice in his brain telling him to cease this senseless duel. He’d already successfully completed his part of the plan, and their coalition was well on the way to winning this game, but still, Minhyun can’t find it in himself to budge from this spot.

 

This nameless boy who keeps knocking him down — he fascinates Minhyun. From his restrained words to the way he moves, each swing of his sword driven by strength and certainty. Every time they clash, it’s intense; ruthless almost. But the thing that captures Minhyun’s interest the most is despite how he appears; there’s a hidden elegance underneath that external ferocity, the kind that only comes with dedication and discipline.

 

Perhaps this is where Minhyun can understand the comparisons to a beast, but he also can’t fully agree. This nameless boy is definitely no mindless animal; he’s something much more than he’d been given credit for.

 

A shield enters Minhyun’s vision then, hitting his face with a solid thunk, knocking him out of his train of thoughts and into the ground. Again.

 

“Maybe you should stay down,” the boy tells him, sporting a small smile for the first time since they’d met. “If it’s your reputation you’re worried about, then don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you surrendered.”

 

Minhyun throws his head back with a laugh. “Thanks for the offer,” he says and then forces himself to stand up again, despite the dull, throbbing pain he feels in his wrists and his legs and his… everywhere. He’s going to feel this into tomorrow.

 

 _Wow_ , Minhyun realises. He’s a total loser right now isn’t he? This might be a good time to call it quits.

 

“I think I’m good though,” he says instead, exasperating the rational voice inside his head.

 

The nameless boy narrows his eyes. “Did I hit your head too hard? Or were you an idiot to begin with?”

 

Minhyun smiles, and chooses to answer by raising his sword.

 

 

 

♆

 

 

 

When day breaks again, Minhyun’s slowly woken up by the columns of sunlight spilling over his eyelids. He eventually rolls out of bed without much difficulty. It’s amazing what a little ambrosia can do to prevent you from waking up like a limp noodle after getting your ass whooped by your new sparring partner.

 

Certain arrangements aside, Minhyun’s got no complaints about camp life so far. Staying alone in a cabin isn’t as lonely as he thought, and the campers have treated him very hospitably thus far. Some even go out of their way to approach him and chalk up small talk — maybe too often — but all in all, it’s nice.

 

However, as blissful as ignorance is, Minhyun isn’t blind. Superficial niceties aside, it’s not difficult to deduce that there are ongoing cliques politics and how certain groups are practically seeking out his presence to add to their circles. This is especially true comes dining time, when every step he takes and every move he makes is watched closely by all the hungry eyes in the area. Whatever choice he makes now is a determinant of how he’ll be regarded in the future.

 

Minhyun isn’t one to shy away from competition. Personally, he thinks a little friendly rivalry here and there can be strong motivators. Politics, on the other hand, are another matter; one that he definitely doesn’t want to get into. And even more importantly, he just wants to eat his food _in peace_.

 

So naturally, the only choice is to land himself in a safe, neutral territory. One that doesn’t seek to engage in a power struggle but also independent enough that they can anchor Minhyun from attempts to swoop him away. And from the looks of it, only a very few selections of tables would guarantee him that.

 

Luckily, his choice didn’t come with much difficulty.

 

“Hey,” he greets, smiling down at Dongho and another boy looking up at him in surprise, “mind if I join you guys?”

 

 

 

♆

 

 

 

Despite his initial motives, Minhyun finds that he genuinely enjoys Dongho and Seongwoo’s company. He also discovers that they’re all of the same age. ( _That_ was a fun revelation). Which meant less formalities for Minhyun to worry about and vice versa; not that it seems like Dongho or Seongwoo were the types to worship authority regardless. It’s refreshing.

 

Because almost every camper that Minhyun had met wasn’t being nice to _him_ , they were being nice to Poseidon’s son.

 

Minhyun loves his father. But he’s not that fond of being considered as an extension of someone rather than as an individual. Which is why he mostly remains in the company of his new friends. Dongho and Seongwoo are ones of the very few who treats Minhyun as a peer, on equal standing, no more no less.

 

It shows in the way that Dongho remains a ruthless sparring partner. He doesn’t hesitate to gift Minhyun a few bruises here and there into the following day. But when he isn’t toppling Minhyun down to his feet, he has a calloused hand outstretched, ready to pull Minhyun up again. And that is something Minhyun appreciates. Someone who keeps him grounded but also keep him going even when he thinks he can’t.

 

And Seongwoo?

 

Seongwoo’s funny. Which is an interesting contrast from his stoic visuals (What? Minhyun can appreciate a good-looking face when he sees it). From the way he talks to the expressions that he makes, everything that he does amuses Minhyun in some way. He’s also witty — no brainer there — with a snarky streak of remarks ready for any ass who’d earned it.

 

Now _that_ fascinates Minhyun even more. For someone who seems to readily play the role of the jester for everyone’s entertainment, Seongwoo also doesn’t bow down to any high horse. Is it pride? Or confidence? That may be how it translates to some, but Minhyun doesn’t read it like that. He can’t really read Seongwoo at all, to be honest. Surprisingly, he’s not an open book like Dongho.

 

So, naturally, Minhyun keeps waiting, and he keeps watching. Just until he finds the opportunity to get a glimpse of the next page.

 

 

 

♆

 

 

 

Seongwoo eventually gives it to him one day. The offer for a tour around the Apollo cabin is extended on a whim, but Minhyun has learnt that it’s easy for Seongwoo to get lost in conversations and say things offhandedly. However, Seongwoo truly doesn’t seem to mind, which Minhyun takes as a positive sign of their progressing relationship, and happily accepts.

 

The first thing Minhyun notices when he enters Seongwoo’s shared room is that it doesn’t seem to differ much from the interior of the main lounge. Another pot of hyacinths sits by the window, giving some contrast of colours to the bright cedar that dominates the room. There’s not much else that catches his attention, albeit the smell of sage is weaker here.

 

When Seongwoo shows Minhyun his bunk, Minhyun finds that it’s equally as modest as everyone else’s in the room, but strangely devoid of personal decorations. The only mark of his presence is evident in a worn, deflated pillow and ruffled sheets.

 

“Sorry if you’re looking for something to embarrass me about,” Seongwoo says with a cheeky grin. “I don’t cuddle things to sleep like Dongho.”

 

“Ah, well now I’m thoroughly disappointed,” Minhyun chuckles. In truth, he’s disappointed that he didn’t find anything that he can connect to Seongwoo at all. This was supposed to be an opportunity. And Minhyun _really_  wants to get to know Seongwoo. But still, he finds himself closed off even in the comfort of living quarters. 

 

Instead, he notices a few more small flower pots by a nearby windowsill and attempts again. “I don’t suppose you’re a plant dad either?”

 

“Nah, I don’t have the green thumbs. They’re somebody else’s,” Seongwoo corrects him. “We _do_ try to keep it lively around here, you know? Gotta keep the atmosphere up for the cabin's unofficial walk-in infirmary.”

 

“I see,” Minhyun hums in acknowledgement, and continues walking along. Maybe Seongwoo isn’t materialistic, or maybe he’s just really good at hiding it. Either way, Minhyun still can’t find a clear conclusion.

 

He's almost about to give up until he spots a desk, clearly disorganised, next to the bunk bed opposite of Seongwoo’s, and immediately felt the urge to approach it. (Why are boys his age so messy?) But, noticing the same thing, Seongwoo quickly strides past him. Then he began tidying up the scattered sheets of paper on the surface before Minhyun can examine them.

 

“Whoops,” Seongwoo says hastily, confirming his ownership of the desk, “forgot to clean these up in the morning.”

 

One of the sheets slips from his fingers and slide into the ground near Minhyun’s feet. So Minhyun bends down to pick it up on instinct, accidentally catching a whole glimpse of the paper as he does so. He doesn’t notice the alarmed look on Seongwoo’s face — eyes widening comically, cheeks tinted with pink — until he returns it back to Seongwoo.

 

“Sorry,” he apologises first, “I didn’t mean to look, but was that poetry?”

 

Seongwoo doesn’t look at him, refusing eye contact, suddenly focused on smoothing out a nonexistent crease with his thumb. There’s no immediate rebuttal or a panicked joke to diffuse the situation like usual.

 

Minhyun doesn't know what to do with this new scenario, so instead, he patiently waits for Seongwoo, who is uncharacteristically lost for words.

 

“Yeah,” Seongwoo admits eventually, voice hushed into a whisper. 

 

Suddenly, Minhyun sees it. An opening. A chance.

 

“That’s pretty cool,” Minhyun says, smiling fondly, “I wish I could write poetry.”

 

“Well, thanks. It’s actually one of my many talents,” Seongwoo beams proudly, quickly trying to return to his usual vigour. They pretend not to notice how the pink highlighting his face has now spread to his ears.

 

Minhyun’s mouth curls into a teasing smirk. “Except archery, apparently.”

 

“ _Hey_ ,” Seongwoo says, immediately pouty like a child, “not everyone can excel at all of our parent’s domains.”

 

“I wouldn’t say that I excel at all of them, but thank you,” Minhyun says proudly, earning the usual side-eye and snide snicker from Seongwoo. There he is. He’s back.

 

And then Minhyun’s eyes fall back onto the stack of poems still in Seongwoo’s grasp. Like some sort of secret he’s holding onto. Normally, Minhyun can take a hint and respectfully offer privacy, but he doesn’t know what surges over him to suddenly ask, “May I?”

 

Seongwoo blinks. Not as taken aback by the sudden question as Minhyun thought he’d be. Then he looks over the poems once more, pondering.

 

“Well you’ve already seen some of it so, sure, I guess,” Seongwoo says. Then he hands over the sheet that Minhyun had picked up for him earlier.

 

“Thank you.” Minhyun takes it gratefully, the paper light against his fingertips as he slowly scans it from top to bottom.

 

 _It’s pretty_ , is Minhyun's initial thought. Though there isn’t much to digest, it's evident Seongwoo clearly has a way with words, more so than he thought. _But it's also a little sad_ , Minhyun assesses as he gradually absorbs the passages. There's a longing pull behind every line, like the protagonist's passion remains unknown, unseen, _unheard_.

 

But more importantly, what strikes Minhyun most about it, is that…

 

“It’s a… love poem?”

 

“Yeah,” Seongwoo says, missing a beat again. “They’re just… the easiest to write,” he explains. It doesn’t sound like he’s confident in his answer either.

 

Something flicker in his eyes when Minhyun looks at him curiously. And then he’s _gone_ , like an automatic switch, slipping on a sly grin that prevents Minhyun from reading him any further. “It’s in my genes to be a suave romantic like my father, I suppose.”

 

Minhyun decides not to push it (because he’d rather not be pushed away). He knows he’d probably probed Seongwoo enough for today so he doesn’t try to inquire any more than that.

 

“Sure it is,” he says instead, “I suppose that’s a fair excuse for why you fall short at combat skills.”

 

“ _Watch it_ ,” Seongwoo fixes him an intimidating look (which doesn’t work, really) (it’s kinda cute though) and crosses his arms petulantly. “One day I’ll be a badass bow-wielding son of Apollo, and you’ll be eating your words.”

 

 

 

♆

 

 

 

That night when Minhyun returns to his own cabin, freshly showered and ready for bed, he decides to linger around his reflection in the bathroom mirror for a little longer. Just so he can carefully inspect his own face for a moment.

 

 _Hmm_ , Minhyun thinks, and briefly wonders whether his eyes are the right shade of brown.

 

 

 

♆

 

 

 

“How about…” Minhyun hums like he’s pondering over invisible options. What would be a good choice?

 

Sometimes when he envisions Dongho in his head, he sees an image — moonlight shining against the demigod’s sword as he smoothly shifts into the next stance; the reflection of a _white tiger_ under the surface of a lake — and it’s solidifying in his imagination the more he thinks about it.

 

“Baekho?”

 

“Baekho?” Dongho repeats. He doesn’t sound convinced. _Yet_. “Isn’t that a little… derivative?”

 

“Nah,” Minhyun grins. “I think it’s cute. It suits you way better.”

 

And that immediately sets Dongho’s face on fire, blood flushing to his cheeks and ears. Minhyun’s learnt that Dongho’s not the type to handle compliments well, or at all, and maybe he’s been taking advantage of that lately. Whoops.

 

“Stop messing around,” Dongho huffs, arms crossed defensively.

 

“I’m not,” Minhyun says with his signature laugh. “I’m just trying to reclaim a boring title so it’s better suited for you.”

 

“Why do you care about this more than me?” Dongho’s still frowning, eyebrows stitched together uncomfortably like Minhyun has just done something that isn’t making sense to him again. “I don’t _care_ what other people call me.”

 

Minhyun sighs softly, because they both know that’s a lie but Dongho will take it to his grave. And that’s why Minhyun has to take matters into his own hands.

 

“Good, cause you’re gonna have to get used to Baekho from now on,” Minhyun smiles, eyes curving with his lips in a cat-like fashion. “I’ll make sure that it sticks around here.”

 

 

 

♆

 

 

 

“The prophecy’s for me?” Minhyun questions, eyes widening out of disbelief. “But how can you be sure it’s not for Jisung hyung? He’s a Big Three child as well.”

 

“I know,” Jisung says, looking at Minhyun sympathetically; like he wished he could take Minhyun’s place as well, “but you were there when the Oracle awakened and gave the prophecy. The council is certain it was meant for you.”

 

Minhyun frowns. It’s a fair point, especially because Jisung has been at camp for longer than he has and going by Minhyun’s logic, Jisung would’ve triggered something a long time ago. But still, that doesn’t mean he’s enjoying what this means for him.

 

“So, _I_ have to lead a quest?”

 

“Yes, but don’t worry, we won’t be sending you alone,” Jisung assures, reaching out to squeeze Minhyun’s shoulder supportively. “You can choose two companions to go with you.”

 

The head advisor nods in agreement. “Naturally, since it’s your first time, it’ll make sense to pick from our most experienced—”

 

“Hold on,” Minhyun quickly interjects, “it’s my decision right? And I can pick whoever I want?”

 

The question seems to catch everyone off-guard. The advisors exchanges a nervous glance with each other, passing looks around in the room and then to Jisung, who on the other hand, shrugs nonchalantly by Minhyun’s side.

 

“Well... yes,” the head advisor affirms hesitantly, “but—”

 

“Are there some people you already have in mind?” Jisung asks, though judging from the way he’s smiling at Minhyun, he probably already knew the answer himself.

 

“Yeah,” Minhyun replies confidently, like this is the first and only thing he’d been sure of throughout this entire conversation. “There are.”

 

 

 

♆

 

 

 

“Minhyunnie. Have you ever been to Ulsan before?” Seongwoo asks, still peering outside the window of the bus with Dongho, absolutely enraptured and marvelling at the different sights in unison. Their childish innocence makes Minhyun chuckle.

 

“Nope,” he answers curtly. “I was born in Busan but my family never really ventured anywhere beyond our city,” Minhyun explains, still watching them with a smile, “so this is my first time too.”

 

“Look at those food stands. There’s so many of them!” Dongho points, fingers tapping against the transparent mirror in his excitement, “...hey, are you guys feeling hungry?”

 

“Just say you want to eat it all and go,” Seongwoo grins cheekily. “No need to use us an excuse.”

 

That earns him a punch to the shoulder from Dongho as expected, and he yelps. He looks even more betrayed at Minhyun for chuckling at his misery.

 

But Minhyun can’t help it. For someone that claims to prefer playing things safe and prioritise survival above all, Seongwoo sure enjoys rattling Dongho’s cage too often.

 

While Seongwoo continues to whine petulantly about “this abusive friendship” while rubbing his aching arm, Dongho swings his head around to look at Minhyun.

 

“Hey, don’t be alarmed, but we should get off at the next stop,” he says, voice lowering into a careful whisper despite his smiling face, “something is following us.”

 

Minhyun nods, grabbing his backpack from under his feet and holding the strap tightly between his fists. He exhales with a silent breath, lips thinning nervously, running over their previously prepared plans inside his head.

 

 _It’ll be fine_ , he thinks, _they’ll_ be fine. No one has died during a quest in years, what’s the worst that can happen?

 

“I can hear how loudly you’re thinking from over here,” Seongwoo’s voice grabs his attention again, “don’t overthink it.”

 

Dongho grins in agreement. “We got your back, Fish Stick.”

 

Minhyun looks at them both appreciatively for a moment. Then he closes his eyes, tension loosening from his shoulders as he takes another breath, slower this time; calmer.

 

“Okay,” Minhyun says, smiling gratefully at his friends. “Let’s do this.”

 

 

 

♆

 

 

 

It’s only been two days since they left camp, but after everything that’s happened, Minhyun can’t help but start deliberating over his decisions. Maybe he should’ve listened to the advisors and took some experienced campers with him instead. Or even worse, maybe he’s really not meant to be the leader of this quest. Either way, he can’t help but feel guilty for endangering Dongho and Seongwoo’s safety to this extent.

 

“Minhyunnie, hey,” Seongwoo’s head emerges out of nowhere into the tent, “you’ve been in here for a while. Is everything okay?”

 

“Yes!” Minhyun replies, caught off-guard by Seongwoo’s sudden presence. He’s blinking rapidly, fumbling with the cloth in his hands. The behaviour alone is enough to have Seongwoo immediately narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

 

“What are you hiding from me?” Seongwoo asks, barging into the tent without another word.

 

“Nothing!” Minhyun quickly tries to pull his limbs away from view, wincing audibly at the sudden movement and further incites Seongwoo’s medic instincts.

 

“That’s _something_.”

 

“It’s nothing. Hey—”

 

“Let me have a look,” Seongwoo insists despite Minhyun’s protests, crouching down beside his friend. “That looks serious,” he frowns as he inspects Minhyun’s legs carefully, noticing the splotches of red spreading around the limb. “What caused it?”

 

Minhyun sighs. It wasn’t his intention to ever get caught. He’d somehow managed to keep his condition on the down low to everyone at camp so he didn’t think this day would ever come. Now the cat’s out of the bag.

 

“The beach,” he admits. To which Seongwoo blinks, not expecting that answer. “I took my allergy meds beforehand, but I lingered in the water for too long during that battle,” Minhyun continues to explain, eyeing Seongwoo sheepishly.

 

“Look, it’s okay. It’ll go away eventually. I’ll be more careful next time.”

 

“Allergy meds?” Seongwoo repeats, confused at first. Minhyun waits as the realisation slowly dawn upon him. “Wait… you can’t be…”

 

“Yeah,” Minhyun chuckles in bitter admittance. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

 

It’s Seongwoo’s turn to laugh this time. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. What son of Poseidon is allergic to the sea?”

 

“Well _technically_ ,” Minhyun interjects, “I’m allergic to the salt in the sea, not the sea itself.”

 

Seongwoo smirks. “Yeah, yeah, say what you want. I’m keeping this one for the books.”

 

Minhyun laughs at that, because he hadn’t expected any less of a response from Seongwoo. Dongho, on the other hand, wouldn’t react so favourably.

 

“At least don’t tell Baekho about this, please?” Minhyun pleads, “he won’t let me live if he finds out.”

 

“Hey! Neither will I,” Seongwoo jokes, but nods in agreement anyways. They both know Dongho wouldn’t let Minhyun expose himself to any kind of risk, even at the compromise of his own safety because he’s an idiot like that.

 

“Just… promise not to be an idiot about it,” Seongwoo says, clicking his tongue chidingly, “I already got my hands full keeping that reckless tiger alive.”

 

“Of course,” Minhyun assures Seongwoo, even though he and Dongho really aren’t that different. Seongwoo snickers, as if thinking the same thing.

 

And perhaps this is why Minhyun’s most apologetic towards Seongwoo. Because unlike Dongho, Seongwoo was dragged into this fiasco almost unwillingly, and despite his complaints, he’s been the most focused at looking out for the safety of their group.

 

Something stirs in the pits of Minhyun’s stomach, gnawing at him.

 

(It’s guilt.)

 

“Need me to sing a hymn?” Seongwoo offers after a beat of silence, still rightfully concerned despite his easygoing demeanour. It’s only now that Minhyun realises Seongwoo has his own fears and worries as well, but he’s been swallowing it all down for their sake. So the least Minhyun can do for him is to not be one of them.

 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Minhyun insists. “You should go help Baekho instead, or he might burn all of our food. He’s a terrible cook.”

 

“So are _you_ ,” Seongwoo points out, grinning, “and me. We’re all terrible. Consider that the next time you pick your companions, Minhyunnie.”

 

Minhyun smiles at that, tight-lipped. Once Seongwoo leaves, he’s left to stew in his thoughts all over again. Perhaps Seongwoo only meant it as a joke, but he’s right. Minhyun should’ve been more careful in his decisions. This is all his fault— for putting his own friends at risk.

 

He only hopes that he can protect them to the end.

 

 

 

♆

 

 

 

“Holy Styx,” Seongwoo gasps, mouth dropping in shock as he watches the massive shadow moving slowly across the surface of the water. “Wh-What is that?!”

 

“Looks like some kind of fish,” Dongho comments after taking a glimpse of it himself, then he turns to Minhyun. “Any ideas? You’re the monsters expert here.”

 

“I think…” Minhyun blinks rapidly, equally taken aback himself as he marvels at the creature underneath them, stirring the ocean’s waves. “I could be wrong. But. I think it’s a Kētos.”

 

“Kētos?” Dongho repeats, recalling the familiar name from ancient myths. “Like the Trojan Sea Monster?”

 

“Yes and no,” Minhyun says, keeping his eyes on the monster’s movements closely. “There were two historic sea monsters that were slain by Perseus and Heracles respectively, and they were way bigger in size compared to this one,” he pauses, contemplating over his deductions, “if this creature is a Kētos, it’s definitely younger. It might not even be an adult yet.”

 

“Okay, so the fetus equivalent of an ancient colossal monster just happens to be right between us and our destination?” Seongwoo glances back and forth between Minhyun and Dongho, a fearful expression evident on his face. “I don’t know about you, but clearly, this is a trap!”

 

“If I had to guess, it’s probably our last obstacle,” Dongho surmises, brandishing his sword in preparation to face the creature. “So the answer is simple. We get rid of it, get our prize, and go home.”

 

“Baekho, wait!” Minhyun cautions, a nagging feeling bubbling in his chest, like his instincts are warning him that this situation isn’t something that they can handle, “put away your sword! It might not be hostile—”

 

Almost immediately, they hear the sounds of waves crashing violently against the rocks as the creature rises into the air. And before they know it, all they can see is a dark, thick border of fins surrounding a scaly ambiguous form under the dim moonlight. Its huge shadow slowly reaches where Minhyun is standing, until it eclipses the moon completely from their sight.

 

Even under this darkness, Minhyun can tell that the monster is watching them, observing them, snarling lowly through its nostrils.

 

“Uhh,” Seongwoo swallows, feet frozen in place, “so what you were saying about it not being hostile?”

 

Minhyun wants to say something, anything, but his body stays suspended in position as well. He can feel a drop of sweat beading down from his temple. All at once, too many thoughts are running through his head and not a single one of them is telling him that they should fight.

 

It’s saying they _need_ to run — to retreat at once.

 

But before Minhyun could open his mouth to tell his friends exactly so, he can see the large shadow shifting its movement. And almost as quickly, a deep, guttural roar suddenly reverberates through the ground under their feet. 

 

“It’s about to engage!” Dongho turns to warn them at once. “Disperse!”

 

They all follow the cue out of habit, scrambling off the offshore rocks to find a safe spot to hide until they can calmly devise a plan to execute. But Minhyun can hear a loud _“Hey!”_ in the air, turning around to see Seongwoo a few steps behind him, watching dreadfully as Dongho suddenly leaps into the distance and jumps across the rock formations, waving his sword in the air to steal the monster’s attention.

 

“Dongho!!” Seongwoo yells after him. “Are you _insane_?!”

 

“Stay there!” Dongho yells back, landing steadily on a platform despite the crashing waves getting more aggressive with the creature’s presence. “I’ll distract it! You two should—”

 

At that moment, quicker than any of them could realise, a sinister blur of darkness whips out from the shadows. It launches Dongho high into the air and leaves no time for them to process anything as another blurry tentacle almost immediately strikes down at him like a rag doll.

 

_No, no, no, no, no._

 

Minhyun and Seongwoo freeze in place, eyes widening in horror. The sound of Dongho’s body crashing into the bottomless ocean is deafening, echoing in his ears as Minhyun stands and watches helplessly behind a shell-shocked Seongwoo, heart dropped to their stomachs.

 

Dongho’s _gone_.

 

 

 

♆

 

 

 

“DONGHO!” Seongwoo screams, feet moving faster than he can think.

 

That snaps Minhyun out of his trance, and he quickly runs after Seongwoo, catching and pulling his friend by his forearm to stop him in his tracks. In response, Seongwoo whips his head and glares at Minhyun, a menacing mixture of shock and betrayal reflecting in his eyes. It wrenches something inside of Minhyun’s chest.

 

He didn’t think Seongwoo could ever look at him like _that_.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Seongwoo snaps, trying to wring himself free from Minhyun’s grip. Minhyun can feel the tremors from Seongwoo’s hand and tries his hardest to not lose control of his own. “Let me go! Dongho’s— I have to—”

 

“Don’t be stupid!” Minhyun hisses. He’s trying not to raise his voice, but he can feel his own blood pulsing furiously inside his head. (He’s _angry_. Why is he angry?) “What are you going to do? Jump in the ocean with him?! That monster is still out there!”

 

“SO WHAT?!” Seongwoo shouts, finally throwing his arm out of Minhyun’s hold. “If you think I’m going to stand here and let him die—”

 

“Seongwoo,” Minhyun exhales, steeling his gaze, “listen to me for one _fucking_ second.” He reaches out to grip both of Seongwoo’s shoulders, turning his friend to meet his eyes. “You’re not helping _anyone_ if you act recklessly like that. Okay? I need you to breathe, please.”

 

“You— Gods _dammit_ —” Seongwoo curses, eyes welling with tears as he clenches a fist against his chest. He takes one big inhale, following Minhyun’s eyes, and gradually exhales into slower breaths. Minhyun sighs in relief as he feels his friend’s shoulders slumping, hopefully given up on any dangerous intent for now, and loosens his grip.

 

“We have to do _something_ ,” Seongwoo insists, voice breaking, barely maintaining his composure. Minhyun’s never seen him like this before. Scared. Distraught.

 

_Broken._

 

(He’s boiling now. But who is he mad at?)

 

“Every second we waste he— I—” Seongwoo sniffles, his tone is heartbreakingly pleading. As if he realises his own helplessness. As if he wants to believe that Minhyun has the answers instead. “Minhyunnie, _please_ , we have to save him.”

 

(Ah, he gets it now). Something else clenches inside of Minhyun’s chest. (He’s angry at himself.) “We will,” Minhyun promises him resolutely. (He’s angry because he’s failed.)

 

(Because Dongho could be dying, and he couldn’t prevent that.)

 

(Because Seongwoo is _hurting_ , and he couldn’t prevent that.)

 

So he closes his eyes and takes a breath. He needs to think— no, he needs to act. _Now_.

 

(Because this is Minhyun’s fault, and he could’ve prevented this. So it’s on him to fix it.)

  
“I have a plan, okay? I need you to send an Iris message to Jisung hyung. Tell him where we are. Tell him what’s happening. And then prepare the ambrosia and your hymn,” he instructs, squeezing Seongwoo’s shoulder in reassurance. “ _I’ll_ go rescue Baekho.”

 

Seongwoo’s face immediately shifts into a disapproving look once he understood what Minhyun was suggesting. “You promised you wouldn’t be an idiot! This is exactly what an idiot would do!”

 

“We both know I’m the only one who can see and breathe underwater. I have to do this Seongwoo-yah,” Minhyun argues, unbudging. “Besides, I can talk to it. I think. Or at the very least, I can find Baekho and get him out of there in time.”

 

It’s a long shot. Minhyun is aware of that, and so is Seongwoo, who was about to open his mouth in protest, but he stops himself and purses his lips bitterly. Because in the end, they both know that Minhyun is right. This is their best— their _only_ option.

 

“Okay,” Seongwoo nods, voice firmer now. “Go get him. But you both better come back alive or else—”

 

“I know,” Minhyun smiles and finds himself being pulled into a hug for good measure.

 

Seongwoo doesn’t speak. He just keeps his arms wraps around Minhyun tightly instead.

 

Minhyun doesn’t need to say anything either. He knows it’s not a farewell; it’s a clear warning: _I’ll drag you both back from the depths of Tartarus if I have to_. Minhyun responds with an understanding chuckle as he pulls away.

 

Then he turns towards the ocean, and without a moment to spare, he runs.

 

 

 

♆

 

 

 

 _“The stronger a demigod is, their greater their weaknesses are,”_ he remembers Jisung telling him. _“You’re strong, Minhyun-ah. And that’s exactly why you must be careful.”_

 

And yet, how painfully ironic it is, that the greatest source of his strength was also the natural cause of his downfall.

 

But Minhyun presses on, pulsing through the waters that are a lot more menacing than he remembered. He tries not to focus on how it stings. How it pricks at his entire body, like a lighter threatening to set a pack of matches ablaze. He tries not to focus too much on counting his breaths either. How it feels like a gradual countdown to the gates of Hades.

 

Instead, he focuses on the only priority that _matters_ ; finding Dongho.

 

But it almost seems hopeless. His field of view is too dimly lit even with his underwater vision. And although the monster still out and about somewhere, he knows he’s wasted too much time being wary. He doesn’t want to admit it, but with another painful breath, comes the crushing realisation that he’s been trying to avoid.

 

He can’t do this alone.

 

So Minhyun closes his eyes, and does something that he hasn’t done in years:

 

He prays to his father.

 

 _Please._ Minhyun begs. _I know I've never done anything to make you proud. I know I’m not a worthy son. But please..._

 

_Help me._

 

A sudden current rushes from the distance and smacks Minhyun backwards, taking him by surprise. He tumbles in the water, momentarily dazed, trying to find his bearings when a speckle of light gleams at him from the corner of his peripherals.

 

Minhyun squints on the spot, and finds another gleam from a sunken sword, reflecting the barest glimpse of moonlight in his direction. He follows the light, and finds the hilt of the blade covered, still sitting in the grip of a familiar, calloused hand.

 

_Dongho._

 

So Minhyun swims furiously, throwing his hand forward, desperately trying to reach the friend who always had one to help him rise back up.

 

 

  
♆

 

 

 

Minhyun wakes with a violent gasp, coughing ghastly as he feels the ambrosia running through his body. There’s a weight on his lungs that he can’t quite shake and he still can’t feel any of his limbs. It _almost_ feels worse than death.

 

“Let me breathe,” he whines weakly. “You’re heavy.”

 

“Heavy?!” a dramatic voice exclaims. “You’re only breathing in the first place cause of me. Ungrateful bastard.”

 

“You fucking idiot!” he hears another voice cry, followed by two large fists pounding weakly on his chest. “Don’t you _ever_ pull that shit on us again or I’ll fry you up and feed you to the seagulls, Fish Stick!”

 

“Wow. What heartfelt gratitude,” Minhyun deadpans as his vision slowly clears up.

 

He grins at the first sight that he sees: his two friends by his side, eyes puffy, nose softly sniffling, faces fixing simultaneous glares down at him, even though their eyes betray their relief.

 

“Is it gone?” Minhyun asks, not to put a damper on his friends’ mood, but he also needs to be sure.

 

“Without a trace,” Seongwoo replies, slumping down onto his back as well. He looks like he’s about to collapse. “Dunno what you did, but it’s gone.”

 

“Didn’t do anything,” Minhyun sighs, exhausted, resting his forearm against his eyes. “I guess that means we failed this quest.”

 

“Bummer,” Dongho says, with an audible thud as he lies down on the other side of Minhyun. He doesn’t sound all that disappointed, though. “It’s our first quest too. This isn’t exactly setting a good record.”

 

“Record?” Minhyun turns and looks at him, brows knitting confusedly. “What record?”

 

“For the demigod team of the year duh,” Seongwoo replies without missing a beat. “There’s a whole leaderboard and everything you know? _Ah_ , fuck—” he cries, “I’m gonna owe _a lot_ of people so much money when we get back.”

 

“Serves you right,” Dongho snickers. “Ah, well, just pay it back with a bigger bet for next time.”

 

“Next time?” Minhyun gawks at the both of them. “You’d… go on another quest with me?”

 

At that, they pause, blink, and stare at Minhyun in silence for a moment. As if sharing a mutual agreement, they both decide he deserves a simultaneous punch to both arms.

 

“Ow!”

 

Seongwoo shakes his head. “Why do people think _he’s_ the smart one when he always asks dumb shit like this?”

 

Dongho laughs aloud. “You’re telling me.”

 

“I am, literally, lying right next to you two.”

 

“Sorry,” Dongho smiles at him cheekily. “It’s just… you’re just really stupid sometimes, you know?”

 

“Can’t believe you’d even question if we’d go with you again,” Seongwoo is smiling at him as well. “If it wasn’t already clear enough, we’re a team now Minhyunnie. You can’t get rid of us that easily.”

 

Minhyun finds that he doesn’t really know how to respond to that. So instead, he silently stares at the sky, as their words repeat over and over in his head until it sinks.

 

_We’re a team._

 

It’s a strange feeling, realising you’re not alone in the world. He doesn’t really know how to process it.

 

Because for as long as Minhyun could remember, he’d love the ocean, because it felt like home. But now he knows home is simply whichever current his heart carries him to. And right now, that’s how he feels right here, in between these two equally idiotic boys; his irreplaceable friends.

 

So he settles with a soft “Thank you.” And they acknowledge it by pretending not to notice the crack in his voice.

 

 

 

 _Thank you_ , Minhyun silently prays to his father, _I think I’ll be okay now._


End file.
